


Like leaves in the water

by Fur_Florian



Category: Hamlet - All Media Types, Hamlet - Shakespeare, SHAKESPEARE William - Works
Genre: Autumn, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Skipping Class, WITTENBERG FIC, honestly this is just hamlet and horatio being cute and kissing, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27141680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fur_Florian/pseuds/Fur_Florian
Summary: “Great. Would you like to skip the next class then?” He asked. His hands gripped onto Horatio’s shoulders. Horatio seemed to hesitate, his lips came together in a pout as he thought, gazing down the hallway and returning to Hamlet’s eyes, wicked, sparkly eyes who invited him to evil.
Relationships: Hamlet/Horatio (Hamlet)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	Like leaves in the water

**Author's Note:**

> this is actually a translation of a thing i wrote for a writing challenge in spanish. hope you enjoy anyways.

The professor stopped his lecture mid-sentence, the ringing bell cutting down his inspiration.  He let out a frustrated sigh, fixing his suit and hurrying to finish the lecture, promising he would return to the subject on the next class. He left the chalk on the board and arranged his papers to put them in the briefcase, saying goodbyes to the students who left the classroom laughing and whispering.

Horatio closed his book, holding it under his arm.  He got up from his seat, adjusting the chair before leaving the classroom and giving a goodbye smile to his teacher. The hallway was  nearly  empty of students, all hurrying to their next class.  Horatio let out a heavy sigh, relaxing his aching shoulders a little as he cracked his neck in the attempt to motivate himself for the next hour.

“Pst! Horatio...” He heard a whisper behind him as he walked down the hallway.  He turned to one of the corridors, finding Hamlet looking at him with a wicked smile and both eyebrows raised, reaching his hand to him.

“What is it, My Lord?” He said, imitating the whisper even if they were alone, walking towards him with quiet steps.

Hamlet rested his hands on Horatio’s chest, fixing his shirt and tie a little, “What class do you have next?” He asked.

“Philosophy II.”

“You look tired...”

“I am, My Lord.”

“Great. Would you like to skip next class then?” He asked. His hands gripped onto Horatio’s shoulders. Horatio seemed to hesitate. His lips came together in a pout as he thought, gazing down the hallway and returning to Hamlet’s eyes. Those wicked, sparkly eyes who invited him to evil.

“What happens if they see us?”

Hamlet smiled and pinched Horatio’s shirt, inviting him to follow him as he ran to the end of the hall where the stairs awaited for them, “Then we will have to be quick to run !"

Horatio gave in, running behind Hamlet.

They ran together, trying not to make their footsteps echo though the corridors, stopping  abruptly  at every corner to make sure the next hallway was clear, crawling through the floor as they passed outside some classroom where they  probably  should have been present. The university was big enough for them to get tired after running some stairs down.  They were walking, their voices silent in a light conversation —their legs already tired of trying to be stealthy—, down the corridor, looking at the marvelous door at the end, showing them the exit, tempting them with the autumn view on the other side.

The weather was perfect, not as suffocating as in summer but not as  unbearably  cold as in winter either. They didn’t even need coats, feeling the warm breeze getting closer and closer. 

That door was their ticket to freedom.

“Hey!” They heard a yell behind them “The class period is not over yet!”

They mumbled a curse underneath their breaths and started to run again.  Both had the reflex to hold on to the other, in the desire that neither of them would  be left  behind: Horatio pressed his hand on the small of Hamlet’s back, and Hamlet held Horatio’s shirt sleeve.

They ran as fast as they could towards the bright afternoon. The sun  was shrouded by  the clouds, making them glow a strong white that allowed no shadows on the ground.  The only thing they could hear was their laughs and the yelling of the inspector chasing them; they didn’t have time to turn around and face him, running as they tried not to trip, gasping for air between laughter and the sudden exercise.

Suddenly, their steps no longer felt the rocks of the road and found the softness of the grass and the damp dirt, along with the sound of the leaves crushing and breaking under their polished shoes.  They only stopped when the building of the university  was lost  behind a small hill; their throats dry, scrapped by the air that their lungs begged so much.

Horatio leaned on his knees, trying to catch his breath, letting his book hit the grass, not minding if it got wet.  Hamlet let himself fall into the ground, his forearm covering his face as he let out a dry laugh from the bottom of his stomach. They had stopped at the pond in the park.  The water was still, like a cup of milk,  being disturbed  only when another autumn leaf fell on its surface or a duck woke up and began to swim, leaving a small trail behind that did not reach the shore. The sky  was reflected  in the water as if it were a mirror, making it difficult to identify where one image ended and another began.

They both approached the water, sitting on the shore, side by side.  The leaves gathered at the edge, leaving a small space of water in which their silhouettes  barely  reflected. Hamlet sighed, calming his breathing and his laughter.  Horatio, by his side, still smiled, without taking his gaze off from the prince's face, still feeling the ghost of those hands fixing his shirt a few minutes ago. Hamlet opened his eyes, looking at how little of Horatio  was reflected  in the pond.  A smile stretched his lips, and he turned his face towards his friend, drawing his knees to his chest, resting his crossed arms on them.

They were silent for a few seconds, sharing an unbreakable look, until Horatio's eyes  accidentally  fell to Hamlet's lips, and Hamlet took the opportunity and the right to move  slightly  closer, giving Horatio permission to do the same. Their lips touched, Horatio gave a slight touch, of which Hamlet took care to erase all traces of shyness, raising his hand to the nape of Horatio’s neck and holding him, guiding him with the movement of his hand.

Their reflection in the water was still, until a leaf fell on it, forming small ripples that widened at the rate their hearts pounded when they broke the kiss and shared that quiet gaze again.

**Author's Note:**

> i swear, writing them is therapeutic.  
> i hope there weren't so many mistakes in the writing


End file.
